


Dry Spell

by aliciameade



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Isolation, Locked In, Porn Watching, Smut, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciameade/pseuds/aliciameade
Summary: Tumblr prompt: Just imagine Beca and Chloe casually watching a porno together and when I say “casually” I mean “getting horny and ending up doing it right there.”
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 10
Kudos: 243
Collections: Lock Down Fest, Pitch_perfect Chloe/Beca





	Dry Spell

**Author's Note:**

> Written quite a few years ago, but this is a good time to break it out and feature it given our global "stuck inside" situations.

* * *

“They can’t be serious. They’re shutting down transit at four o’clock. We’re literally going to be trapped.”

“Chloe, we’re not going to be _trapped_. We can still go out and walk.”

“To where?” Chloe whines. “Everything’s closed.”

“I’m just pointing out that we aren’t trapped.”

Beca can’t help but smile at Chloe’s sudden and apparent claustrophobic desperation as she dramatically throws herself onto her bed—onto _Beca’s_ bed.

It’s been nice, living in New York with Chloe. It had been random, and literally the opposite direction than she had planned, but Residual Heat had hooked her up with a decent job at a partner studio where she gets to actually do more than get coffee and burritos. Sometimes she even gets to work the board. It might be for shit projects like television commercial jingles and demos for people who want to be singers but should _never_ be singers, but it’s a job, and she knows she has to pay her dues. It would be ridiculous to expect overnight success, a huge paycheck, and an all-star client list. It’s not like it was realistic to expect to be working with Katy Perry right out of the gate.

And she was fine with that.

She had Chloe with her, too, which was really nothing but positive. Chloe was a coin tossed into the air upon graduation, and she decided to land with Beca in New York, because why not? Plus, Beca needed a roommate to afford to live.

Chloe groans and kicks her feet, not unlike a petulant child. “I’m so bored!”

“It’s literally been two minutes and nothing has changed except we can’t go anywhere. And we weren’t going anywhere anyway. That’s why we got groceries yesterday.”

“I know,” Chloe says with a sigh.

“What do you want to do? I’ll let you pick since you’re really working the dramatics.” She watches Chloe’s feet rock back and forth as she thinks, and then she sits up.

“Movie time!”

“I’m _so_ shocked. Truly,” Beca says, voice dripping with sarcasm. It earns her a smiling glare.

Chloe bounces off the bed and swipes Beca’s laptop off her dresser with a snapping and pointing of her fingers. “To the couch!”

Their couch is less a couch and more a miniature futon, and their living room is less a living room and more a living room/kitchen/dining/pantry/closet. But Beca had gotten over Chloe being a personal space invader years prior, and she actually kind of likes having someone around.

Chloe plops on the futon and Beca watches her log into her computer from the area that qualified as a kitchen where she popped a bag of popcorn. Never in a thousand years did she think she’d allow someone else to touch that machine, let alone use it, _let alone_ know the password to it.

But Chloe has become an exception to pretty much every rule in her life.

“Okay nerd, what movie are we watching?” she asks as she shakes the bag of popcorn into a big plastic bowl and joins Chloe on the futon.

“I feel like I’ve seen every single movie on Netflix, I swear,” Chloe says as she scrolls through the New Releases and then navigates to Comedies, Dramas, and Action. “Nothing. Literally nothing.” Chloe shakes her fists atBeca’s screen and lets her hands plop down onto the keyboard and trackpad, the combination landing just right to highlight the URL in Beca’s browser while hitting the P key.

Beca watches it happen in slow motion, and how the convenience of her browser’s auto-fill feature is suddenly her worst enemy as pornhub.com now glares at her from the address bar. She moves fast, aiming to hit the delete key but Chloe’s quicker and moving on instinct at the hand that’s flying into her space and she blocks it, looking at Beca with confusion. Beca knows she hasn’t seen it yet, and she tries to erase the fear from her face, but it’s too late. She can’t. She’s blushing.

“Beca, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just—”

Chloe’s line of sight is already moving back toward her screen, and Beca knows it’s over. Her life as she knows it is over.

A smile starts creeping over Chloe’s features. “Beca...well, well well.”

Beca makes one more fruitless attempt to get her hand on that delete key, but Chloe easily brushes her aside. “Shut up.”

“What do we have here?”

She watches Chloe’s hand move in slow motion to tap the enter key with purpose. “My, my, my,” Chloe tuts as the website loads, covering the computer screen with lewd still frames of adult videos. “What shall we watch, hmm?”

“Chloe, just close it.”

Chloe doesn’t close it. Instead, she’s scrolling and smiling. “Recommended for you? Look, Bec, they have recommendations for you. Based on your viewing history.”

“Oh my God. Chloe. For the love of God.” She groans lets her head fall until her face is hidden against Chloe’s shoulder. But she watches the screen out of the corner of her eye.

“There’s a lot of girl-on-girl stuff coming up in your recommendations here, Bec. Anything you want to tell me?”

Beca flicks Chloe’s thigh with her finger as hard as she can, which is, admittedly, not hard at all. No, Beca has nothing to tell Chloe. Chloe knows, even if she’s playing coy, that Beca likes girls as much as she likes guys. It had been truthed out of her after too many beers at a college party long ago.

“Ooh, he’s cute. _Thick college bro fu—_ ”

“I can read,” Beca rushes, cutting her off before she finishes reading the unnecessarily descriptive title. “Oh, no, Chloe, come on!”

But Chloe’s already clicked it, and Beca’s eyes are assaulted instantly by a video that didn’t even bother to have a lame and pointless introduction of how the two participants happened to meet.

“You said I got to pick the movie. I picked,” Chloe says with such innocence that she might as well be talking about having chosen a Disney movie. She sits forward and sets the laptop on the tiny coffee table in front of them, and has the audacity to make the video full screen. _And_ she turns up the volume. “Besides,” she says as she stretches her arms above her head and lets the right one fall along the back of the futon behind Beca, “I haven’t gotten laid in like three months. I might as well appreciate someone else getting it. Bec, you’re missing it.”

Beca’s stomach twists a little and she finally forces herself to lift her head and turn to face the screen, doing her best to act like it’s a Disney movie and not a graphic porno. It’s not that she doesn’t watch porn—she hasn’t gotten laid in six months (and she feels like Chloe has no place to complain about her three), and she has needs. But watching a porno with her best friend was really one of the personal spaces she never dreamt of Chloe managing to invade.

“He reminds me of a guy from my high school,” Chloe says, cocking her head a little.

Beca just ignores her and crosses her legs, because _honestly_ this is ridiculous but it’s turning her on because she’s a human being.

“Oh, she’s pretty, now that we can see her face.”

Beca snorts a laugh at that because it’s really quite ridiculous and unfair that it’s taken at least four minutes of this video before we even see the girl properly. They can see her because the guy is actually taking thirty seconds to kiss her, and it’s excessive and sloppy and six months feels _so_ long right about now.

She feels Chloe shift next to her a little, left leg crossing over her right just like Beca, and Beca knows. She knows, because she’s trying to both curtail and relieve the heat that’s trying to take hold. And they’re close, they’re much too close, so close that she can feel the warmth from her arm behind her and from the fingertips that are trailing up and down her triceps.

Her palms instantly sweat, a thousand red flags shooting up in her brain, but it feels _really_ nice, and she feels guilty that she’s taking physical pleasure in Chloe touching her when they’re sitting there watching pornography, but Chloe’s the one that chose to watch it, and Chloe’s the one that’s touching her, so who’s she to say anything?

“I miss it,” Chloe says absently, her quiet voice a stark contrast to the volume the girl in the video is using. “The intimacy. Connecting with someone.”

Beca nods, mouth too dry to speak because Chloe’s fingertips aren’t trailing along her arm anymore; they’re tickling along the back of Beca’s neck and slipping, just barely, under the collar of her shirt to scratch lightly along her collarbone. She doesn’t know why she does it; she doesn’t recall making a conscious decision to do so, but her own hand moves across the inches that separate them to rest atop Chloe’s knee.

She can hear Chloe’s breathing change, the rhythm disrupted slightly at the contact, and the fingers grazing along Beca’s collarbone become more bold, sweeping lower, and Beca hears her own breath catch when fingertips graze the swell of her breast. The contact makes her hand clench, squeezing Chloe’s thigh but it’s suddenly out of reach, because Chloe’s uncrossed her legs, and Beca’s hand falls somewhere between them along her thigh.

She feels like they’re caught in suspended time, hypnotized, maybe, because they’re both staring at the video and though not talking, they’re definitely communicating. With every millimeter lower Chloe’s hand creeps, starting to lean into Beca to reach, Beca’s hand creeps up a millimeter along her thigh, squeezing it, scratching at it through the denim of Chloe’s jeans.

Chloe’s breath is so quick now, it sounds like she’s panting. Or maybe it’s Beca that’s panting. She can’t even tell. Someone is. Or they both are. And Chloe’s worked her way so far down Beca’s shirt that her entire hand is resting over the satin cup of Beca’s bra, but she hasn’t moved in at least a minute. Beca wonders if she’s thinking. Debating. Weighing the significance of this in the same way she is. If she’s deciding if she wants this. Like Beca has decided she wants this.

It’s lightning quick. She hears Chloe take a quick breath and then her hand cups Beca’s breast, holding it, squeezing it gently. It makes Beca gasp and makes her hand move the last inch until it’s wedged against Chloe, warm between her thighs.

They still haven’t looked at one another, but there’s enough glare on the screen that she can see their reflection and the way Chloe’s eyes are only open part of the time, and it strikes a chord, emboldens Beca to press harder, to twist her hand just-so so it’s not her weak little finger against Chloe but three strong fingers, pressing against her through the denim that is as hot as Beca feels.

A sound escapes Chloe, a tiny whimper that screams relief and agony, and her wrist twists under Beca’s shirt and it’s Beca’s turn to whimper as her hand dips into the cup of her bra to cradle Beca’s breast, thumb dragging over the nipple Beca _knows_ is hardened and straining for contact.

Beca doesn’t know what to do with her right hand, and it feels useless lying in her own lap, but something motivates her to slip it under her own shirt, pushing the cup of her bra up and away to cover Chloe’s hand with her own, squeezing and holding.

Chloe whimpers again and Beca starts moving her fingers with rhythm, a slow, firm up and down over the thick seam in Chloe’s jeans. Chloe shifts, legs parting a little as her hips tilt briefly, and the movement makes Beca’s hips tilt, too, seeking and finding no relief.

It’s like Chloe knows, or maybe she saw or felt it but suddenly her hand is withdrawing from Beca’s shirt and shows back up on her knee to give it a shove and make Beca uncross her legs.

“Fuck…” Beca breathes when Chloe doesn’t hesitate to fit her hand between her legs, just as Beca’s doing for her.

The sound seems to spur Chloe on, and her free hand flits over Beca’s, pressing it tighter against her body, and Beca can feel it moving behind her hand, the distinct tugging and wiggle of a one-handed unbuttoning of jeans. She doesn’t do anything else, doesn’t ask for anything or push Beca anywhere.

She doesn’t have to, because Beca moves her hand up and slips it into her loosened jeans and right back into place over warm, wet lace. It makes Chloe moan, quietly, like she’s trying to hold it back but can’t, and her hips are starting to match the pace of Beca’s fingers.

Not that Beca has a pace in mind. She can barely process coherent thoughts because Chloe’s hand is pulling at the front of her jeans to unbutton them and push its way in.

It makes her push the lace beneath her fingers out of the way until there’s nothing under them but Chloe, and a second later, Chloe’s doing the same and Beca lets her knees fall open, fingers grazing over the most sensitive spot.

She doesn’t even...whatever. She can’t think. Doesn’t know what this is. But the actors in the video are very obviously nearing their end so she works her fingers more quickly, tight circles that seem to make Chloe forget how to breathe and make her rhythm against Beca falter. But Beca doesn’t need her rhythm, because her hips are making up the difference, rocking against Chloe’s hand.

They’re both gasping, and whimpering, and Chloe’s starting to moan with less restraint, and Beca has to finally turn her head and look at her.

And when she does, it’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen.

Chloe’s completely flushed, her chest is heaving with her breaths, eyes closed and brow furrowed as she nears her end, too.

“Chlo…” she manages through a moan of her own, and Chloe’s eyes pop open and her head falls back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a second before it lolls to the side to look at Beca.

Beca feels Chloe pause like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar, like she’s going to stop, but Beca doesn’t want—can’t allow her—to stop, so she holds her gaze and moves her fingers quicker, pressing harder, until Chloe’s hips lift off the couch with a shuddering gasp that pulls Beca right along with her, heat and euphoria pouring through her.

Chloe’s hand clamps down around Beca’s wrist, holding her there until her body relaxes. When Beca opens her eyes, Chloe’s looking at her again, still winded, still flushed, a hint of a smile resting on her lips.

It should feel weird, but it doesn’t. Not at all. So Beca quirks a smile back at her and Chloe launches herself at Beca, capturing her lips in a messy, fierce kiss that does nothing to allow Beca to catch her breath.

When Chloe pulls back a few seconds later, she’s smiling, and still just as breathless. “That was so hot.”

All Beca can do is nod, because of course, it was. That is a factual statement.

“Can we do it again?” Chloe’s eyes are bright, and she’s less flushed but just as warm.

“What, like, now?” Beca manages.

Chloe bites her lip and nods. “Yeah. But maybe like...a little more proper.”

“You mean to say this wasn’t proper?” Beca mentally high fives herself for getting her snark back in order.

“Not at all,” she says with a shake of her head. “I need to kiss you more.” She makes her point by dropping to kiss Beca again. “I need to undress you.” She makes that point by letting her hand drift under the edge of Beca’s shirt. “And end this dry spell.”

Beca raises her eyebrows at that. “ _Dry_ spell? There’s definitely nothing _dry_ about you at the moment.”

Chloe giggles and kisses her again before bouncing off the couch to grab Beca’s hands and pull her up, too. “Let’s keep it that way.”

_**The End** _


End file.
